


don't mess with the flow, oh no (stick to the status quo)

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Divergent Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School Musical Fusion, Biological Warfare, Crack, F/M, I really don't know what to tag this as, Partners in Crime, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: Harper and Monty tried out for the spring musical, and now everything is going to shit.  Jocks think they can bake.  Nerds think they can dance.  Stoners think they can play cello.And Harper and Monty, Jock and Nerd respectively, think they can get callbacks forMurphy'spart.This is not what he wants.  This is not what he planned.  And, he's just gotta say, he doesnotunderstand.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy, background Monty Green/Harper McIntyre
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55
Collections: Chopped Madness





	don't mess with the flow, oh no (stick to the status quo)

**Author's Note:**

> We are BACK and we are writing MORE CHOPPED and we are gonna KICK SOME ASS!!!
> 
> If you read that summary and are wondering if what you're thinking is what I'm thinking, I can, in fact, confirm that you are about to read a Divergent High School Musical fic featuring Sharpay!Murphy. You're welcome.
> 
> This round of Chopped features:  
> \- Dystopia  
> \- Murphy centric  
> \- bed sharing  
> \- partners in crime featuring actual illegal activity
> 
> Basically this fic is set in a Divergent-ish universe with factions and everything, except it's also a High School Musical AU so all of that is High School Musical based.
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy this huge pile of crack!

Murphy could pinpoint the exact moment when everything went to shit. It came with one word, big and red and glaring at him from the sheet pinned to the bulletin board:

CALLBACKS.

He’d never gotten a callback before, never had to have one. He was leagues above the rest of the wannabees in East High. Callbacks wasn’t how this worked. He wasn’t supposed to get a callback.

For years, his auditions with Jasper had been just a formality, a way to rub it in the rest of the Artists’ faces that they were better than they’d ever be. They’d audition and they’d get the lead.

They never got a callback.

Strictly speaking, things probably went to shit a week before that moment, when Harper and Monty auditioned. ALIE only knows when that was, since they didn’t show up at the fucking auditions, but that was almost definitely the moment everything went to shit.

Jasper was talking about how cool it would be to actually experience callbacks for once, but Murphy ignored him, stalking away from the cast list.

This was not the way the world worked.

Harper McIntyre was a Jock. Her parents were Jocks, so that meant she was as well, at least until Graduation when they got to decide on the rest of their lives. Harper played basketball and whatever other sports existed. She was sweat and trophies and a red pendant hanging from her neck.

Monty Green was a Nerd. He was good grades and computers and books and a green pendant.

Jocks and Nerds didn’t audition for the spring musical. Jocks and Nerds didn’t get callbacks for the leads in the spring musical.

That wasn’t how this worked.

How it worked was like this:

People were split into Cliques, signified by the colour of the pendant around your neck. Red for Jocks. Green for Nerds. Blue for Artists. Orange for Stoners. They had real names, proper ones, but Murphy didn’t care enough to remember them. No one called them their proper names before Graduation, anyway. Your Clique determined everything: where you lived, where you worked, who you loved.

But that wasn’t until after Graduation. Before, you went to school. East High, West High, North High, or South High, depending on the part of the City you were from, but they were all generally the same.

Until Graduation, you had your parents’ Clique. You were expected to act like it was your Clique, but, in theory, you had the freedom to explore aspects of the others, to figure out which one you fit it best.

It was complete bullshit.

You didn’t stray outside your Clique. You didn’t do anything that made you stand out as someone who didn’t fit. If you thought you belonged somewhere else, you tried it out in little bits, tiny ways that no one else could see, and you blindsided everyone at Graduation when you chose another Clique.

That was the way the world worked.

You didn’t audition for a musical if you weren’t an Artist. You didn’t get callbacks if you weren’t an Artist.

That wasn’t how things worked.

“What are we singing for callbacks?” Jasper asked, almost bouncing as he followed behind.

Murphy scowled. “There won’t _be_ callbacks if I have anything to say about it.”

“Harper and Monty are _not_ Artists,” was his opening argument. He didn’t think he’d need anything else.

But Mr. Jaha just laughed, leaning forward over his desk and clapping his hands.

“I know!” he said, grinning at them. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Of course. Of fucking course Jaha had to be the one teacher who actually cared about the whole _try new things_ thing.

Murphy crossed his arms, giving Jasper a look until he crossed his as well.

“It is _not_ wonderful,” he snapped. “It’s weird. This is my part”—Jasper coughed—“ _our_ parts, not theirs! You can’t just—”

“I can,” Mr. Jaha said, his smile not dropping. “There is nothing against Jocks or Nerds participating in the musical, John. In fact, it’s encouraged.”

Murphy huffed. “But—”

“No buts.” Jaha was focused back on the computer on his desk, clearly dismissing them. “I’ll see you at callbacks next week.”

Murphy waited a moment, running through the possibilities of how in the world this conversation could have gone this terribly, and then spun around with a huff, stomping out of the office with Jasper on his heels and slamming the door behind him.

“This could be fun,” Jasper suggested as Murphy stalked down the halls, people jumping out of his way. “A second chance to kick some ass. Monty and Harper in some of my classes, and they seem pretty cool.”

Murphy huffed, stopping at his hot pink locker and turning to scowl at Jasper as he opened it. “It won’t be _fun_ ,” he pointed out. “It’s _unnecessary_. There’s no way a Jock and a Nerd will get our parts.” He pulled out his books for his next class, dropping them into Jasper’s arms and slamming his locker shut. “And we’re singing _Bop to the Top_. Obviously.”

Shit had hit the fan and Jaha had refused to turn off the fan, so it was inevitable that the shit was just spinning around and spraying all over everything.

It was not a pretty metaphor, but it was not a pretty picture.

Everything was going crazy. Suddenly everyone thought they could just _do_ things.

Raven, for example. A Nerd, doing fucking hip hop on a cafeteria table.

Bellamy, a Jock. Apparently he bakes.

Fox. Stoner. Cello player.

His own Artists were admitting to enjoying playing sports or enjoying some of their more academic classes.

What the actual fuck?

Even Jasper had admitted that “basketball might be a little cool sometimes,” and Murphy was about ready to convince his mom to divorce Jasper’s dad so he never had to see him again.

Was he really the only sane person in this entire school?

His question was answered for him when he slammed his locker shut at the end of the day and found a pretty blonde girl standing behind the door.

“What the fuck?” he snapped, and the girl rolled her eyes. There was a green pendant around her neck, and he didn’t know why a Nerd would think he wanted to talk to her.

“Hello to you too,” she said, falling into step beside him as he started down the hall. “I have a proposition.”

He knew who she was, of course. He’d had classes with Clarke Griffin since kindergarten. Even if he hadn’t, everyone had known who she was since her father’s mysterious death a year ago.

He didn’t know what kind of proposition she’d have for him, though.

“I’m busy,” he told her, even though he wasn’t. She was only talking to him because the status was very un-quo and she thought she had that right. He wasn’t even a little curious about her proposition.

Clarke ignored him. “I’m guessing you don’t want Harper and Monty in your musical,” she said, and Murphy snorted. That was obvious. “Well, I don’t either.”

Murphy stopped walking, turning to stare at her. This was taking an interesting turn.

“Why not?”

“We have a big debate competition coming up,” she said, like Murphy was supposed to have any idea what a debate competition was. “Monty’s focusing on Harper and this musical instead of taking it seriously, and I need his distractions to be gone. Statistically speaking, if we combine forces, we’ll be far more likely to make everything return to normal.” She held out a hand, raising an eyebrow at him as if in challenge. “So, what do you say? Partners?”

Murphy stared at her for a moment then glanced around at the other people littering the hall. None of them really seemed to care, but he couldn’t risk the chance of someone seeing him with a Nerd.

It would obviously be easier to make everything go back to the way it was supposed to be with someone to help. Jasper didn’t care enough to be of any help, but Clarke. Oh, Clarke. He could see the fire in him reflected in her eyes, and he liked it.

“Deal,” he agreed, then lifted his nose at her hand. “I’m _not_ shaking hands with a _Nerd_ , though.”

Clarke huffed. “Good,” she said. “I didn’t want to touch an _Artist_ anyway.”

Murphy started walking again, pushing open the doors to outside. The patrol was passing, guns across their backs, and he watched them for a moment, vaguely wondering which Jocks would end up there after Graduation.

“What’s the plan then, Griffin?” he asked, pausing at the hovercraft deck. Clarke stopped next to him, cocking her head.

“You know that old statue?” she asked, and he nodded. It was half a dude sitting on a chair. Everyone knew the statue. “Good. Meet me there at seven and we’ll talk.”

And then she was gone, stepping onto a hovercraft and speeding off into the distance.

And Murphy had a date.

Not a date. It was definitely not a date. No matter how pretty Clarke was, she was a Nerd.

It was absolutely not a date.

It felt a little like a date, like he’d snuck out of his house only hours from curfew to meet up with someone to make out. It was definitely something he’d done before.

But Clarke was a Nerd, so it wasn’t like that. They were meeting up to scheme, not to make out.

He wouldn’t even want to make out with her anyway.

Clarke was already sitting at the base of the statue when he arrived, papers spread out on the cement in front of her and plans already scribbled neatly across them.

“You’re late,” she told him without looking up as he sunk down next to him. “How illegal are you willing to get?”

Murphy had his mouth open, ready to retort, but her words made him pause. That was decidedly not what he’d expected her to say.

“To keep my part?” he asked, thinking back to the time when he’d lit Maya’s hair on fire in third grade for simply mentioning that she might maybe want a bigger part in the play. “As illegal as we can get without getting caught.”

Clarke did look up at him then, studying him for a moment before a grin stretched across her face.

“Then we’re on the same page,” she said before turning back to her notes. “So I was thinking…”

Murphy made it back into the house just after the gong rang for curfew, breathing out a sigh of relief as his feet touched the floor at the relief of not getting caught. He hadn’t been caught out after curfew before, but Jasper had. The patrols weren’t exactly nice to people breaking the law, and it hadn’t been pretty.

His mom was still awake. He could hear her as he passed her studio, almost definitely drunk and throwing things around, if the crashes were any indication. She’d be selling whatever she made tomorrow for more booze and drugs, and Murphy wished he could stop caring.

Jasper’s dad was somewhere. Probably. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen him.

Jasper, though, was the only one who cared enough about Murphy’s disappearance to notice.

“For ALIE’s sake,” he muttered, brushing a hand over his face as he tried to pretend that he hadn’t jumped at the sight of his step-brother on his bed.

“Where’ve you been?” Jasper asked, jumping off the bed and following Murphy into his closet.

Murphy shrugged out of his jacket. “Out,” he said, hoping this would be one of the times that Jasper dropped it. Improv wasn’t one of his strengths and he hadn’t prepared an excuse.

Jasper, thankfully, didn’t seem to be too invested in his answer, and gamely moved back into the bedroom when Murphy shooed him out.

“I was looking for you,” he called through the door. “I was talking to Monty today, and apparently he and Harper are already rehearsing.”

Murphy huffed as he changed into his pyjamas. “Of course they are,” he called back. “They’ll need to rehearse constantly if they want even a chance at beating us.”

He opened the door again, brushing into his room with a billowing of his robe.

“We’re getting our parts back,” he assured Jasper, who nodded.

“I know,” he said. “I was just gonna see if you want to rehearse anyway.”

Murphy stared at his step-brother for a minute before grinning. He loved rehearsing and planning an act almost as much as he loved performing.

“Let’s do it.”

Things didn’t change at school the next day. Murphy kind of felt like they should’ve, that colluding with a Nerd should have made a difference.

But it didn’t.

Sure, things had changed. Everyone was still acting weird as fuck and not doing the things they should be doing, and it still didn’t make any fucking sense.

But Clarke never spared him a second glance when they passed in the halls or when they were sitting on opposite sides of the classroom.

Murphy hadn’t been acting different. He was a phenomenal actor, which meant he was also a great liar. The skills went hand in hand—except with Jasper, somehow. The kid couldn’t lie to save his life.

Lying wasn’t inherently a skill harnessed by Nerds, though, at least to the extent of Murphy’s knowledge.

He was impressed.

She found him at his locker at the end of the day, though, appearing behind the door again like a ghost.

“Come to my house tonight,” she said, and Murphy raised a brow. “My mom’s shift starts later, and she’ll notice if I’m not home for dinner.” She paused, glancing him up and down. “Wear something a little less…” She trailed off, but just kind of gestured at his whole body.

Murphy looked down at his outfit, at the bright striped pants tucked into tall boots and the even brighter shirt, the boa Jasper had insisted went with his look wrapped around his neck.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked. He wasn’t exactly a fashion expert, but Jasper was and his step-brother had approved it. He’d gotten compliments on it.

“It’s very…Artist,” Clarke settled on, and Murphy raised an eyebrow. “Look. My mom will ask more questions if she thinks an Artist is joining us for dinner. Try to look like a Nerd, okay?”

Murphy saluted her half-heartedly, starting to walk away. “I will be the Nerdiest Nerd to ever Nerd,” he promised.

It was slightly harder than he thought it would be to find something that looked Nerd in his closet. Everything was too bright or too patterned or too fun. Nerds were boring. He didn’t own boring clothes.

“What are you doing?” Jasper asked behind him, and he jumped.

Murphy considered lying, but then again Jasper could probably help him.

“I’m going to a party,” he said, and then quickly covered as Jasper’s face lit up. “Seniors only. It’s a dress like a Nerd party, and you can’t tell anyone because it’s not getting shut down at curfew.”

Jasper still looked way too excited about a party he wasn’t invited for. “And obviously you’re incapable of dressing yourself,” he deduced and Murphy rolled his eyes. Jasper cracked his knuckles and then shooed him out of his closet. “Let the master do his work.”

And that was how Murphy ended up on the Griffins’ front porch feeling ridiculously underdressed in plain black pants and a green button down, his pendant tucked under the collar so the blue of it wouldn’t give him away.

He adjusted the fake glasses on his face and rang the bell.

A woman in a white coat opened it up, and Murphy blinked at her for a moment.

“You must be John,” she said, smiling, and Murphy internally cursed Clarke for deciding his Nerd persona was going with his first name. “Clarke said you’d be joining us.” He followed Dr. Griffin through the house to the kitchen, where Clarke was waiting. “You didn’t bring any supplies for your project?”

Clarke blinked at him from the other side of the counter for a moment, but Murphy was prepared for this. He wasn’t the best at improv, but he had a character. He had a role. He was ready to make this work.

“Clarke brought everything home with her after school,” he said smoothly, and Clarke relaxed a bit in the corner of his vision.

Dr. Griffin seemed to be in a rush, so they were sitting down to eat only a few minutes later.

Murphy couldn’t remember the last time he ate dinner with a parent. He wanted to say it was before his dad died, back when things were happier, but he was sure they’d eaten with his mom and Jasper’s dad back when they’d first gotten married.

He could say for sure, though, that it had only been him and Jasper for years.

Dinner with Nerds was a lot quieter than dinner with Artists. It was also just as likely that dinner with Clarke and her mom was just a lot quieter than dinner with Jasper. That definitely could be the case.

Either way, they mostly ate in silence.

“So, John,” Dr. Griffin said once they were almost done. “What are your plans after Graduation?”

Murphy had prepared for that. “I’m gonna be an engineer,” he said, and Clarke’s eyebrows shot up across the table form him.

Dr. Griffin, thankfully, didn’t seem too invested in conversing with him, and just hummed. “My husband was an engineer.”

That was the end of dinner conversation, and then Dr. Griffin was shuffling out the door on her way to the hospital, and Murphy was thanking ALIE that distant parents were apparently common in more than just one Clique.

He helped Clarke load the dishwasher, and then they were heading to her room. Like with clothes, Nerd bedrooms were a lot more boring. No bright colours, no artwork on the walls. Just a bed and a desk that was littered with books and papers.

“Did I pass?” Murphy asked, because being in Clarke’s bedroom felt too intimate somehow and because he and Jasper had spent a lot of time perfecting his look and no one had even mentioned it.

Clarke turned and crossed her arms, her eyes dragging up and down him. “You look like a Nerd,” she declared, and he grinned. “It looks weird on you.”

Murphy took that as a compliment, tossing his glasses at her bed and running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“It feels weird,” he agreed. “Let’s get to work.”

Clarke had already, apparently, started on the main, almost definitely illegal part of their plan. It was bubbling in beakers in her bathroom, and Murphy only glanced at it before heading back into her room.

They had the callbacks themselves handled, but auditioning for the musical was far from the only thing Monty and Harper had made happen. They’d made the status very un quo, and that needed to be fixed.

“I don’t get what’s so great about acting outside your Clique anyway,” Murphy complained, falling on his back on Clarke’s bed. It was comfy. Comfier than his. Did Nerds get better beds? “I’ve never had the desire to do a sport or homework or ride a skateboard.”

Clarke shrugged. “I think it’s probably the excitement of something you can’t have.” She was still writing something on her paper, even though they were on a break. Nerds. “I just don’t understand why they need to be obvious about it. Everyone else is fine with subtlety.”

“Everybody else?” He sat back up, staring at her. “Have _you_ done non-Nerd things, Griffin?”

Clarke shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

But her face was flushed and she quickly covered her paper with another, and Murphy could spot a lie 100 feet away.

He reached out before she could react, snatching her paper and whatever she was hiding there.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but a detailed sketch of the city skyline wasn’t it.

“This is really good,” he said as Clarke snatched it back, hiding it under their notes. “Better than anything I could draw.” He was shit at sketching or anything he had to make with his hands, but that didn’t negate the fact that Clarke was, apparently, really good at drawing.

Clarke waved him off. “It’s just a doodle,” she said, and Murphy hummed, not willing to get into it. “I’m going to be a doctor. Like my mom. Doodles don’t matter.”

Maybe she’d convinced everyone else, but Murphy was an actor. A damn good actor. That meant he could tell when people were lying, which was exactly what Clarke was doing.

He told himself he didn’t care. He never cared, not about anyone or anything that didn’t benefit him. He didn’t know if Clarke was lying about becoming a doctor or lying about wanting to be one. He didn’t know if she was lying to herself about her doodles just being doodles, if she wanted them to be something more. 

He didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

All he cared about was their mutual problem and how they were going to solve it.

By the time they were done for the night, it was past curfew. Murphy didn’t know how they’d lost track of time, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to avoid patrols or walk home. It would be a long walk.

“You could stay.” He turned to look at Clarke, who shrugged, not looking at him. “My mom won’t be back until after we leave for school. You could stay the night.”

Murphy thought about the long walk to the empty house and Jasper’s questions about the party he never attended. He thought about how Nerd beds were comfier and how Clarke “doodled” masterpieces in secret.

“Okay,” he agreed, and sent a quick message to Jasper to bring him a change of clothes to school in the morning.

Clarke tossed him some baggy sweatpants to wear, and he brushed his teeth with his finger and then rejoined her in her room, where Clarke was laying out blankets on the floor.

“I’m sleeping on the floor?” he asked, which he didn’t mind. He’d slept in worse spots.

But Clarke shook her head. “ _I’m_ sleeping on the floor,” she corrected. “You’re the guest.”

That was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard a Nerd say, and he told her as much. “It’s your bed,” he said. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

Their stare down lasted a few minutes, and Murphy refused to be the first to blink.

Clarke finally sighed, dropping her arms from her hips. “We can share?” she suggested, and Murphy wasn’t entirely sure whether sharing Clarke’s small bed would be better or worse than letting her sleep on the floor.

“Sure,” he agreed, swallowing heavily.

Her bed was just as small as he’d thought. There was no way they could share without touching at least a little, and Murphy lay completely still as he spent way too long trying to fall asleep.

He woke up wrapped around her the next morning, his face buried in her neck, and he wondered how it was fair that a Nerd was so soft and warm, how it was fair that she felt so perfect in his arms that he didn’t want to get up.

His days fell into a pattern. Go to school and pretend everything was normal, and work to get it back to that way. Go home and rehearse with Jasper, who was convinced he was secretly dating someone and frustrated that he wasn’t sharing any details. Head to Clarke’s for dinner or just after, and accidentally stay too long to make it home before curfew. Fall asleep barely touching her and wake up entwined.

It got harder and harder every morning to pretend he didn’t like it, to make himself get out of bed, but Murphy was an actor and he had a part to play.

The night before callbacks, they were in her room, books and papers balanced on their knees as they sketched each other.

The plan was in motion. Everything was ready. There was no reason for him to even be there, but he didn’t want this to end.

“Time,” he called, and showed off his poor drawing. Her face was lopsided and the shading was shit.

“That’s…” Clarke started, and he just laughed.

“Absolute shit?” he offered, and she snorted but didn’t deny it.

“Let’s see yours.” He tugged on her paper until she relinquished it, and then he gaped at the near perfect rendering of his face. “Wow.”

Clarke snatched it back, her pencil moving over the paper as she fixed the shading. “It’s just a doodle.

“It’s not just a doodle,” Murphy said, moving on the bed so he could rest against the headboard beside her, their arms brushing. “It’s amazing. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my face.”

Clarke snorted but didn’t say anything, and he wanted to ask if she’d ever dreamed of being in a different Clique. He didn’t, because they were trying to stop this very thing from happening, but he didn’t think it would be quite so bad if it was Clarke.

“Sometimes I think maybe I don’t want to be a doctor.”

Her words were so quiet that Murphy barely heard them.

“What do you want to be?” he asked, voice just as low. He knew what she was getting at, but he needed her to say it. “An engineer, like your dad?”

“No. Sometimes…” She trailed off, her fingers brushing over the drawing of him, the sketch that was better than half the Artists in his classes. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t want to encourage this. He didn’t want to tell her she was amazing and gorgeous and brilliant, that her drawings were beyond good enough to make it as an Artist if she decided to change Cliques at Graduation. She’d be an amazing Artist.

“I get it,” he said instead. He didn’t, not really, but he did know what it was like to have an impossible to please mother, one who wanted something specific for you but didn’t care enough to be in your life.

She looked up at him, their faces impossibly close from how they were sitting. He was pretty sure she understood what he meant, because, suddenly and not suddenly at all, she was leaning in and kissing him.

Murphy had kissed people before, in plays and in real life. They were all Artists, and he’d enjoyed them, but he hadn’t known he was missing out. Because Nerds—or just Clarke—kissed like nothing he’d ever experienced before and he never wanted to stop.

He missed curfew again, too wrapped up in Clarke to care.

Jasper let Murphy pull an armful of thermoses from the bin, frowning over it as he stared at him.

“You have a hickey,” he said, and Murphy’s hand snapped to his neck. His step-brother laughed, and Murphy lowered his hand, scowling at him. “So you _do_ have someone.”

“Shut up,” he said, and started crossing the greenroom.

“I’ll get you to tell me one day!” Jasper yelled, and Murphy rolled his eyes.

He handed out thermoses as he went, Jasper moving in the other direction. It hadn’t been too difficult to convince Jasper that he’d deliver the lucky juice, as his step-brother had so eloquently named it, which was just proof that Jasper needed to trust people less. Murphy was the opposite of helpful. He should’ve known something was up.

But it didn’t matter because it gave him the perfect opportunity to add a little something extra to Harper and Monty’s drinks.

“Biological warfare,” Clarke had said that first night at the statue, like it was the obvious solution. “Give me a few days, and I can chemically engineer a fast-acting laryngitis.”

She’d been right, and now it had been added to their thermoses of lucky juice when Jasper wasn’t looking. Thank ALIE for his step-brother’s obsession with labeling things. 

Fuck, if he got caught, he didn’t know what the patrol would do to him. Drugging people was so much worse than staying out past curfew.

“Here,” he said, smirking as he held out the thermoses with Monty and Harper’s names. They looked so out of place here, Monty in his button down and Harper in a jersey. They didn’t belong at callbacks and they didn’t belong in the musical. He was doing them a favour. “Jasper makes lucky juice for auditions and performances. We made you some.”

“Thanks,” Harper said, smiling at him as she accepted her drink. “That’s really nice.”

Very nice, obviously. Murphy was the nicest. He stood there and watched as they tried it, accepted the compliments on the taste.

And then he went back to Jasper, sipping at his own untainted lucky juice as he went. He wished Clarke was here, wished he could tell her they hadn’t even questioned it.

People were too fucking trusting.

Jaha called them out for their audition, and Murphy fixed his hair in the mirror and then positioned himself on stage with Jasper, only their hands peeking out from between the curtains.

Murphy was floating all day, high on the feeling of getting his part, of getting away with a literal crime, of the world going back to the way it should be.

He was feeling so good, so on top of the world, that he didn’t even realize he was being pulled into a janitor’s closet until the door was closing behind him.

“Well?” Clarke demanded, eyes bright even in the dim light of the closet. “How’d it go?”

Murphy couldn’t stop himself from tugging her against him and kissing her, digging his hands into her hair.

“Amazing,” he told her, whispering the words against her lips. Clarke giggled, actually giggled, and Murphy couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. “They couldn’t even make a noise let alone sing.”

Clarke pulled back, grinning at him. “So you got the part?”

He grinned back. “Of course I got the part,” he said. “That wasn’t ever a question.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Clarke laughed and kissed him.

This was a bad idea. She was a Nerd and he was an Artist. They were trying to stop people from going outside their Clique. Being together was the opposite of what they should have wanted.

But suddenly Murphy couldn’t picture his life without Clarke, couldn’t imagine spending the night in his own bed in his own house instead of hers. He didn’t want to do the spring musical if she wasn’t in the audience, didn’t want to think of a future without her.

It was such a bad idea.

But he didn’t care.

_Three Months Later_

Murphy stood in his chamber, dressed already in his gown. He stared at the table in front of him, at the four graduation caps he could choose from. One with a red tassel. One with a green. One with a blue. And one with an orange.

He knew what his pick was. He was Artist blue through and through. There wasn’t a world in which he’d belong in any other Clique.

But there was a part of him, that wondered whether he should pick green instead and become a Nerd. It was a part of him that was way too loud, a part he shouldn’t have had in the first place, a part he hadn’t had until Clarke.

Everything came back to Clarke.

He didn’t know what would happen in the school after Graduation, whether Harper and Monty would continue breaking down barriers between Cliques and cause some sort of revolution.

He didn’t know what that might mean for anything else.

But he did know that if he didn’t pick the same colour as Clarke, they’d be over. Their relationship had been a secret, but inter-Clique relationships weren’t illegal in school. They were frowned upon, sure, but not illegal.

They were very illegal, however, after Graduation.

Would it be worth it? To betray everything their people stood for, just for a chance to be with her?

He was taking too long. He knew his decision. Blue. Artist. He’d go on and be an actor or a singer or both. That was always his life, and it was the life he wanted.

He picked up the graduation cap, staring into the mirror as he situated it on his head.

He hoped he’d walk out there and see Clarke with blue on hers, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I was planning on adding more specifically Sharpay moments but ran out of words. I developed this world way too much oh my god and all my background stuff did not make it in either haha.
> 
> Vote for me if you want me to continue writing absolute crack next round!
> 
> Comments and kudos give me life!


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